


--and Satisfaction Brought it Back

by stardustland (prowlish)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Tickling, but off screen lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/stardustland
Summary: Jazz has known Prowl for a long time, so when he behaves strangely... curiosity is overwhelming.





	--and Satisfaction Brought it Back

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for anonymous. :) This was fun to write. Thank you for commissioning me!

Everything had to be a long game with Prowl. Jazz supposed it made sense given his meticulous nature, but sometimes it was maddening! That they balanced each other out was attractive, but it led to some frustration — for both of them, he was sure. Jazz was nothing if not stubborn, that was for sure… how else would he have been able to court Prowl for years? Years of getting closer in little increments, of being granted a spot in close orbit to Prowl’s personal life  — years of falling steadily and more deeper in love.

 

And it continued at that pace, as they explored Prowl’s comfort with different activities and intimacies as they moved forward. Jazz hadn’t been in a rush to seduce the mech, which had been met with relief from Prowl. But it still left Jazz a lot of time to think (or imagine) way too much.

 

His current preoccupation was not that Prowl didn’t seem to like his doorwings touched, nor was it even that he didn’t want to talk about it — it was that Prowl had been evasive about it all. Jazz had known Prowl for some time, and no matter on which strata of closeness he considered you, Prowl was straightforward and truthful.

 

And so Jazz’s curiosity piqued — and that stubbornness of his made sure he couldn’t drop it without at least  _ trying _ to investigate. Right now, he should be collating reports to go to Prowl or Prime, but in actuality he was imagining the incipient encounter with his partner…

 

***

 

_ A usual scene for them: Prowl an hour or two into overtime for the day, Jazz trying to pull him away. Usually this started as subtle as Jazz could manage, but too often turned into him relentlessly bothering Prowl until the mech left with him if only to get a moment’s peace. This particular afternoon, Jazz was at least trying to relax Prowl a bit while he “just finished this one thing.” He circled around, watching Prowl jotting notes on a datapad. Jazz smiled; one of the most endearing things about Prowl was that he still hand wrote all of his personal notes with a stylus. But he also signed off on reports that way, making it incredibly difficult to forge anything in his name. A valuable thing for the head of spec ops to know. _

 

_ Jazz leaned over the back of his chair, tracing his fingertips over Prowl’s shoulders. He felt a rush of tingling EM spikes, of Prowl letting his field flare out a bit, switching to a state more befitting to a personal encounter than a professional one. In other words, his touch was welcomed. Jazz smiled, letting his hands brush soothingly over Prowl’s plating, his fingertips working apart armor plates and trying to relax him as much as possible. And so, idly, his fingers brushed the always-tempting doorwings on his back. _

 

_ Prowl froze, the panels flared out and rigid, his EM field suddenly withered close to his frame. Startled, Jazz took his hands away. _

 

“ _ Prowl?” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to — ” _

 

_ Prowl quickly stood, casting a strange look over his shoulder at Jazz. “It’s quite alright,” he said.  _ “ _ But I just realized I need to get this to Optimus right away. Can we meet later?” _

 

_ Jazz blinked behind his visor; even then, the lie was apparent. But he didn’t challenge it and just offered a bemused smile. “Sure, Prowl,” he said. “Later.” _

 

_ Prowl left at a rapid pace, leaving Jazz to lean on the back of his chair and ponder. _

 

***

 

Jazz leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of his own stylus (a habit that Prowl truly hated). What had that look been? Jazz had been unable to place it at the time, and even now it proved difficult. Flustered, maybe? Ruffling Prowl's feathers was difficult, though Jazz had managed it on several occasions… Maybe the fact that he’d been trying to hide it while using such an obvious excuse to leave?

 

Jazz made a face and the stylus slipped past his lips and went bouncing off his frame and onto the floor. He barely noticed. Even beyond this, the fact that Prowl continued to be evasive — the way he had steered conversations on specific paths and not brought up his behavior the previous week — was also odd.

 

Prowl was giving him the runaround! And the fact that it seemed such an innocuous topic made Jazz all the more determined to figure out what was going on. He leaned down, picked up the stylus, and dropped it on his desk as he trotted out of his office.

 

***

 

With the day done, Jazz knocked on Prowl’s door at their agreed upon time for a little date in. There weren’t many accommodating places to go on Earth if you weren’t feeling outdoorsy, and not many on the Ark, either; it hadn’t exactly been built with luxury in mind. There were only so many times one could go to the commissary and not expect to get catcalled by one or both of the twins when leaving together.

 

At the sound of the door unlocking, Jazz stepped inside, smiling at the sight of Prowl curled up on plush lounging furniture with a warm cube of energon. Just because it hadn’t been built for luxury didn’t mean they couldn’t adapt. It was in their nature, after all.

 

“Hey,” he said, quickly joining Prowl. The mech’s EM field buzzing against his own and rolling over his plating was as warm and welcoming as Prowl’s embrace as Jazz scooted in close to his side.

 

Prowl smiled. “Hello,” he said, one panel flicking on his back.

 

They were always distracting, but now? The effect multiplied exponentially. The subject of Jazz’s gaze could be difficult to discern, given that he wore a visor, which he was unusually thankful for today. When he’d talked to Bluestreak earlier, Jazz had felt very awkward about constantly staring at the sniper’s fluttering door panels. He was far more expressive with them than his brother — or perhaps Prowl was just reserved. He made a mental note to watch Smokescreen later to see if he found any conclusions.

 

Either way, talking to Bluestreak hadn’t revealed anything other than how funny the younger mech apparently found his question.

 

Well. If Bluestreak was laughing about it, then surely the root of this couldn’t be bad, right? At the very least, Bluestreak had confirmed that. (“Oh no, not at all! But I’m afraid you’ll have to find out in your own time. He’d be pretty upset if I told.”)

 

Now Jazz felt more confused than ever, though it was a relief that he hadn’t brought back anything Prowl might rather forget with an incidental touch. He sighed as he leaned into Prowl’s side, still preoccupied.

 

Prowl tilted his helm, peering over at Jazz. “Is something wrong?”

 

Jazz blinked, making the visor flicker. A moment later he grinned. “Nah,” he said. He adjusted how he was sitting as he leaned close. “But can I kiss you?”

 

Prowl smiled, affection tingeing his field. “Of course,” he said softly.

 

Primus, that look always melted his spark. All of his thoughts and attempted deductions faded away as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Prowl’s. Jazz could barely count the years anymore, but his spark always swelled, the force of his own affection and love always startling in its depth.

 

Now this Jazz could get lost in, set aside the endless musings of his mind and revel in the experience. He let his fingertips wander boldly, caressing Prowl’s chassis and flirting under his bumper.

 

That was when it happened. Prowl squirmed.

 

Distracted, Jazz attempted to repeat his actions. Prowl was not usually a squirmer like this — and sure enough, when he got his fingertips between plating and bumper just so, Prowl squirmed again and made an odd stuttering vent.

 

Jazz sat back, blinking behind the visor again. “You okay?” he asked.

 

Prowl nodded his helm, his features flushed — and not only from the kiss.

 

“What’s up?” he asked, tilting his head as he watched Prowl arrange himself meticulously. But before Prowl could answer, he leaned forward, a bolt of enthusiasm jolting through his field as this moment connected with the day's preoccupations and presented him with an idea.

 

From the near startled look on Prowl’s face, Jazz presumed that he looked a lot more devious than intended — but he knew Jazz enough to stay where he was when the mech leaned close to him. “Jazz?”

 

Jazz ghosted his hands up Prowl’s waist again, slipping his fingertips into the little crevice between his alt-mode’s bumper and the plating of his chassis and wiggling them, teasing. Prowl bit his lower lip until he couldn’t keep composure any longer.

 

Soon, he squirmed again beneath Jazz’s touch, and with the motion came several soft giggles. Giggles! Jazz didn’t know if he’d ever been so delighted in his life!

 

His fingers stilled, and Prowl peeked his optics back open, looking at Jazz almost bashfully. “You’re ticklish!” Jazz declared.

 

Prowl cleared his vocalizer. “Well, yes — ”

 

“Is that why you got weird when I touched your doorwings? Are they ticklish, too?” His visor glinted as he peered over Prowl’s shoulders.

 

Prowl reset his vocalizer again, the panels contracting behind him as though to evade look (or touch) from Jazz. “Yes,” he admitted.

 

Jazz started laughing himself. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

 

Prowl huffed, his doorwings flicking again, almost like the twitch of an annoyed cybercat’s tail. “Well, it seems rather undignified.”

 

Jazz snorted, wiggling his fingers so that he could watch Prowl writhe again — though he stopped quickly. “It’s cute,” he said. He stole a quick kiss from Prowl’s lips, humming. He extricated his fingers, simply holding Prowl as they cuddled close together. “Do you dislike being tickled?”

 

Prowl shrugged. “I don’t  _ dislike _ it, but I…” He seemed at a loss for the words to describe his feelings.

 

But Jazz grinned. “Don’t want it to be public knowledge?” Prowl gave him a sheepish smile. Once Jazz was in the know, he found Prowl easy enough to read. It was a skill that made some others of their senior staff jealous, but those others didn’t have the privilege of being this close with the tactician. 

 

Then, after another moment… he couldn’t resist. “ _ May _ I touch them?” he asked, his visor flickering with the excited flash of his optics.

 

“What?” Jazz teasingly walked his fingertips between the panels on Prowl’s back. Prowl flushed. “Go ahead,” he murmured.

 

Grinning again, Jazz kissed Prowl’s cheek as he lifted his hands, tracing along the flat pane of the doors. He could feel the twitch of plating against him, but so far… Prowl seemed to keep composure. 

 

Hmm…

 

Jazz kept mapping out the metal under his fingers, exploring and testing, watching Prowl for reactions. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom edges that Prowl squeezed his hands upon Jazz’s shoulder with a stutter of his vents.  _ A-ha. _ He teased his fingers along the edges of those sensor panels, his field lighting up as Prowl soon collapsed upon his front, laughing softly and squirming against Jazz’s frame. 

 

It was delightful. Maybe it was foolish and romantic of him, but — it was a treat to see Prowl relax, even if it was something silly like having his doorwings tickled.

 

Eventually, Jazz had mercy and slipped his hands away to rest on Prowl’s waist. Their fields whirled together, bright with mirth and contentment. Jazz kissed Prowl’s helm, his engine humming happily as he moved his hands over Prowl’s plating, soothing now; no more teasing or tormenting. He smiled, affection swelling in his spark and reflected in his field. “I love your laugh,” he murmured.

 

Prowl lifted his helm, blinking down at Jazz. A smile of his own spread across his lips, and unlike his usual ones, this one did not fade away after a few moments’ warmth. Prowl leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jazz’s nose. “I love  _ you _ ,” he replied.

 

Jazz chuckled, letting his weight drop back and pull Prowl with him. He smiled brightly up at the mech. “Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> psst I made a new profile page! ^^ https://prowlish.carrd.co/#


End file.
